From One Side Of the Coin to the Other
by impossibleorimprobable
Summary: A phantom thief on the verge of giving up. A fiery inspector's daughter trying to understand. Shinichi and Ran are more than happy to help. After all, they've been there before. This is how to cut through the web of lies without severing the most important bond of all. [KaiAo with ShinRan on the side. Twoshot. Rated for Language.]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I SHOULD be working on an update for FWYK but what am I doing instead? oh yeah. ANOTHER TWO SHOT. Will I never stop starting things and then never finishing them? Anyway. KaiAo and ShinRan. KaiRan and ShinAo friendship? Idek you'd have to squint REALLY HARD to make it not platonic.**

* * *

Why the hell did he end up here?

Of course, the irony wasn't lost on him. How many policemen and detectives have chased after his tail in the past year, only to be thwarted by a smoke bomb or a handy dandy hang glider cape? And now here he was, in the white tux, dripping onto Nemuri no Kogoro's doormat. It was a new level of pathetic, even for him.

Oh yeah. Now he remembered. He was moping. That's why.

No, really. What the hell was he doing here? Tantei-kun didn't live here anymore, ever since returning to his normal body. Besides, it's not like he'd be able to help anyway. No, in fact, Kaito got the sneaking suspicion that all Kudou would've done is laugh. Their predicaments may have been similar, but the circumstances were, after all, different.

He sneezed. Loudly. Flying in the rain was not the brightest idea he'd ever had.

Kaito entertained the idea of ringing the doorbell. _Ah, yes, Mouri-san. I'm the Kaitou Kid, and I'd like to borrow a towel please?_ That would go over well.

Actually, considering that both residents of the Mouri Detective Agency knew some form of martial arts, that was probably also not the brightest idea he's ever had.

Too late though. Someone was shuffling behind the door. It seemed as though the sneeze had given him away. He couldn't very well fly from such a low starting vantage, and running was futile since the Mouris were, as previously stated, terrifying martial artists. God, was this how it final ends? Kaito could already see the headlines of the next morning's newspapers: "Kaitou Kid arrested by Famous Sleeping Detective."

Mouri Kogoro may not have been much of a detective but Kaito knew, from close up observation, that he had a hell of a throwing arm.

"Mou, Shinichi, didn't you say you're going to be late-" The door cracked open, and if it was even possible, Kaito got paler. He was very quickly revising that headline in his head. Maybe "Kaitou Kid murdered by Mysterious Karate Expert, Case Stumps even Famous Detective Kudou Shinichi" would be more fitting, since _Mouri Ran_ could _definitely_ kill him and her boyfriend would _definitely_ write his death off as a suicide. Would it be too late to run now?

The dark-haired girl stared at him for a single, long, suffocating moment, as her voice died in her throat.

He smiled weakly. And she looked so damn much like _her_ too. This was just a bad idea in its entirety wasn't it? Abort mission. Yup. Running was definitely a good idea. Maybe right now he should-

"You're…not Shinichi."

"Nope," he agreed, sure he'd notice his palms sweating buckets if not for the fact that his hands were currently trapped inside his soaked through gloves.

Ran stepped hesitantly away from the door. "Well…Shinichi's not here right now. If you've come to see him, you'll have to wait." The door cracked open another inch. "Would you like to come in, Kuroba-kun?"

Kaito thought he might have forgotten how to breathe. "How did you-?"

Ran smiled, and colored a little. "Shinichi promised no more secrets. Don't worry," she added, after a moment's consideration, as if just remembering, "I'm not planning on unmasking you. I don't think Sonoko would ever forgive me for that." She stepped inside, disappearing out of view, calling over her shoulder. "In any case, you're all wet. I can see if I can find some of my Tou-san's old clothes for you?"

He followed her hesitantly into the apartment, feeling distinctly like some sort of stray critter that had been taken pity upon. He would never allow anyone to see him like this in the suit—Kaitou Kid was supposed to be untouchable, capable of walking in the sky, maker of miracles, and definitely not bothered by something like rain—but the fact that Ran had looked so much like _her_ probably had something to do with it…

Great, now he was dripping on her carpet.

Not for long though, since she came back the next second with a towel and a set of clothes. Kaito accepted the towel gratefully. She led him into a spare room to change. Kaito peeled off his wet things mechanically, changed, and returned to the living room. He'll get his wet gear later. Hopefully by then it'll have dried. And stopped raining.

"Tea?" Ran offered, already disappearing again, this time to the kitchen. "You can sit, you know. Shinichi said he'll be a while, what with the rain and all."

"Hmm?" Kaito hummed, distracted, then remembered what he was supposed to be here for. "…Oh. Uh. Yeah."

Ran reappeared, bearing a tray with a teapot and two cups, eyebrows raised. "You're not here to see him, are you?"

Kaito was sweating again. "Uh…"

She bent over, poured, and handed him a cup of steaming chamomile. Then she sat back with her own cup, and regarded him with serene blue eyes and an amused sort of half smile. "So, what can I do for you, Magician under the Moonlight-san?"

Her composure was almost eerie. Not that he wanted her to start beating him to a pulp, per se, but she hadn't seemed the least bit surprised to see Kaitou Kid, internationally wanted criminal 1412, dripping on her doorstep.

Then again, Kaito reflected, being the daughter and girlfriend of detectives, Mouri Ran had probably been subjected to the weirdest shit.

"How did you do it?"

Before he could even think, Kaito had blurted it out. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Damn his big mouth. He could've made up some lie about how he had important criminal business to discuss or even say that he just wanted to warn them about his next heist but no, his big stupid mouth had to just go off.

This is why he tried to uphold poker face as long as he could. When it shattered, the pieces, like his thoughts, scattered everywhere, and he became an idiotic mess.

"Do what?" Ran asked, honestly curious, sipping her tea.

Kaito swallowed, and looked away.

Across him, she sighed. "Something's eating you alive, Kuroba-kun. I know that look. I've seen Shinichi wear it often enough." A pause. "It's uncanny how much you two look alike, you know? Even your expressions."

He laughed, without humor. He could have said the same about her.

And maybe that was what had driven him here. Because _she_ had always been the one he talked to and he had so much to say and so many questions that needed answering but now he couldn't talk to _her_ and Ran was the closest substitute.

Again. New level of pathetic.

At least he never tried to deny it?

Kaito sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, now even more messy than usual because it was towel-mussed and half wet.

"How did you forgive Tantei—er, Kudou-kun?" he closed his eyes, waited for the verdict, because he was here and he might as well go out on a limb and hope that the answer would help him, right?

She looked surprised that he'd actually spoken, and then flushed when the words actually registered in her head. "For what?"

"You know. Pretending to be a seven year old. Lying to you for a year."

If Tantei-kun had been here, Kaito was pretty sure he'd have holes in the back of his head by now.

Ran turned a perceptive eye to him. Far more perceptive than he would've liked. Damn. Holes in the _front_ of his head wasn't any better.

"Just answer the question, please?" Kaito hated how tired he sounded. But he had to ask. Had to know if it was even possible. _How_ it was even possible.

Ran paused for a moment, considering, almost as if wondering, herself. And then she shrugged. "It's complicated. There were a lot of reasons." A smile, and she looked away, blue-eyed gaze misting as she let herself be drawn away by the memories.

Kaito wasn't sure if those were pleasant memories she was thinking of.

"When he first told me I was furious. I think, there were moments there where I actually did believe I hated him," Ran turned back to him matter-of-factly, sipping from her mug. "He'd let me wait for a year—when he was right there. He bent over backwards to lie to me, used my trust, put my family in danger, broke my heart—"

Which each listed sin Kaito sank lower in his seat, cringing, not quite sure if it was for Kudou or for himself, and when he finally brought himself to speak his voice was barely audible. "He had a reason for that, Mouri-san."

"I know." The smile was back. "But that's not why I forgave him."

"…huh?"

"The black organization was a threat on my life whether or not I knew. I was in danger as long as he was near me."

"Then why…?"

"He put in a lot of work to let me trust him again."

"Huh?" Ok, so maybe he sounded a little stupid.

"When he came back he explained everything. From the beginning to the end. He helped me understand why he did it. Having his perspective was important. I realized how terrified he must have been—and what kind of paranoia he had been living in. And the pain he had to endure just to come to me, just to let me see him, as him, to know I'm not alone…" She shuddered.

Kaito was still steadily dismaying. _Tried that…_ "But you could have easily chosen not to understand. Why didn't you?"

"Because I knew I'd regret it, Kuroba-kun. I love him. That in and of itself is reason enough."

And that's it isn't it? Kaito could feel whatever hope he'd built up in the last fifteen minutes disintegrate. There was no way Aoko loved him, which means he was definitely, completely, irreversibly screwed—

"Sometimes, Kuroba-kun, it takes a little patience and persistence," Ran leaned over the table and put a hand on his shoulder sympathetically. "She'll be pissed for quite some time. That's normal if you were being an idiot. I can't promise that she doesn't hate you but I can promise that it's worth it to try. For both of you. If you're going to regret this…regret her…forever…then try. Strive to be worthy of her forgiveness. Don't give up."

Kaito managed a smile. "That's why you forgave him, isn't it, Mouri-san?"

"I knew I would regret it. And no matter what I did I couldn't bring myself to cut that red thread…"

In the face of their happiness, the weight in his chest only grew heavier. Why had he thought that anyone would be able to help him? Even if he wanted to preserve that so called red thread—even if he'd wished—well, that didn't matter. Aoko's happiness was what mattered. And if not having him in her life meant that she was happy, then he would oblige.

Kaito rose to his feet and turned. A smoke bomb and some seconds later, he was clad in full Kid regalia again, slightly damp. "Thank you. For the tea and the talk."

"Kuroba-kun," Ran's voice came again, neutrally, just when he was about to go to the door.

"Yes?" He froze, fingers brushing the handle.

"I told him I hated him. I told him I never wanted to see him again."

Almost exactly identical to what Aoko had said to him. An ironic smile tugged at Kaito's lips.

"But if he had actually done that," Ran continued, "If he had disappeared from my life just like that—if I'd actually never seen him again—I don't know what I would have done. Sometimes people are angry. When they're angry they say things they don't mean—not fully." A pause. He could almost hear the smile in her voice. "Don't give up on her if she hasn't given up on you. Give her time."

And it hurt.

It tore his heart in two.

(Ironic, his nonexistent heart.)

Because there was always the possibility that at the end of the day she will never forgive him. There was always the possibility that waiting will be fruitless. One the one hand Kaito wanted to be strong. Kaito wanted to be determined, march out of her life like she demanded.

But.

But.

On the other he couldn't begrudge himself that tiniest bit of hope.

He had all the time in the world, didn't he?

And Aoko was worth it.

She'd waited for him for so long. Maybe it was his turn. To wait, just a little while. To not intrude on her life, to be kept at the edges, to take whatever she wants to spare and not push for the rest.

He could do that.

He could do that because he loved her.

And suddenly Kaito understood why Mouri Ran waited so long for Kudou Shinichi to come _home._

With a grateful glance over his shoulder, Kaitou Kid—Kuroba Kaito—twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open. " _Thank you_ , Mouri-san."

Outside, the rain had stopped. The scent of petrichor permeated the atmosphere, a slight chill still tingling in the air.

"You're welcome." Mouri Ran was grinning. "Oh, and if I catch you pretending to be Shinichi again, I'll—"

"Kick my ass to kingdom come. I know, Mouri-san." Kaito tipped his hat at her. The wind blew the door shut.

When Mouri Ran opened it again, to say her goodbyes one more time, Kaitou Kid was gone, and the only thing left was a poor yellow rosebud on the doorstep, looking a bit drowned.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, did I actually, for once, FINISH a twoshot? The world is upside down. Although the quality is debatable...dang, this is literally just me emoting all over the place and trying not to sound redundant and FAILING MISERABLY. This is why I need to actually know what I want to write before I write it, ppl. Forgive Shinichi, he had to conform to the mayhem the authoress calls a plot.**

 **Anyway. Just leaving this here to distract you while I go and churn out the rest of that FWYK update.**

* * *

"I really am sorry."

" _It's ok, deduction freak. But don't just stand in the rain, you'll get sick. Buy yourself an umbrella or something."_

He couldn't help but smile. "Ok. I'll see you later then."

" _See you."_

Shinichi sighed and hung up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The bus was delayed due to the heavy rain, and he was halfway across the city, when he had been meant to meet Ran at her house a half hour ago.

And he hated it.

He hated being late. It felt like he was keeping her waiting all over again. And every time he was afraid that something like the occurrence from a year ago would happen again…

He leaned his head back against the booth wall, shivering a little at the cold as he let his eyes drift shut and his mind wander on to more pleasant things. Like Ran's lemon pie. And coffee. Or tea. Whichever, he wasn't really picky.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

His eyes fluttered open and Shinichi nearly had a heart attack.

The girl who had put forth the question bore a striking resemblance to Ran. Large eyes, upturned nose, even the curve of her chin was similar. The only difference was her hair, a dripping dark mass that flipped every which direction at the ends. After the initial shock, Shinichi was able to observe that she was drenched, head to toe, hugging her shoulders and shivering. Wordlessly, he moved over. She sat down without speaking or looking at him, wringing out the hem of her shirt and smoothing down her wild, untamed hair.

He went back to daydreaming. When would the bus come? The girl's resemblance had only made him more impatient. Date night with Ran was still tentative and new to both of them, dammit. He wasn't going to let her wait too long.

"Say. You're Kudou Shinichi, aren't you?" The girl spoke.

Even their voices were somewhat alike.

Shinichi sighed and hoped to god it wasn't another fangirl. "Yes. Can I help you…?"

"Nakamori," The girl said. Only now did he notice the look in her eyes, something particular, like anger, sparking. "Nakamori Aoko."

"Well, Nakamori-san." Definitely scary. Please, god, don't let it be a fangirl. "If there's a case or an inquiry you want to submit, you could send it to—"

"Why did you do it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Why did you lie to her?" A newspaper clipping, spotted with rain, was shoved under his nose.

For a second he thought his blood had gone cold, when he saw the headline.

And then it clicked in his head.

Ah. Nakamori Aoko. Nakamori-san. The keibu's daughter. The one he'd been told about.

"Which one told you, then, Nakamori-san?" Composure regained, Shinichi leaned back, expressionless.

"Half and half." Aoko begrudgingly admitted.

Shinichi sighed. "I'm not surprised. It's not in the papers and Kuroba would have only had time to tell you what you absolutely needed to know. Therefore, it must have been Hakuba that told you that I was Edogawa Conan."

"You didn't answer my question." She gritted her teeth, folding her arms.

He sighed again. "Is this about Kuroba, Nakamori-san? Why don't you ask for his reasoning instead?"

"I don't trust him."

"So you came to another liar, hoping for the truth? I'm not any better than him, you know-"

"I don't trust myself either," Aoko cut him off. A pause. "I don't want to forgive him just because he's _him._ Or go on hating him just because he's him."

Shinichi realized, a beat late, that this must be the reason that she had steadfastly refused to look at him throughout their entire encounter.

"So explain to me, Kudou-kun." She demanded. "You must have similar stories. You even look alike—but I'm going to turn my head, so I don't let some twisted hope of mine keep me from the truth."

Silence. Then.

"…If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." Shinichi recited, closing his eyes again.

"…What?"

"A quote from Holmes. I'm a very logical person by nature, Nakamori-san. When I found myself in a seven year old body, left for dead by a crime empire that wasn't even supposed to exist, I had a few choices to make. Namely, who knew I was alive."

"…And that's how you made that choice? Eliminating the impossible?"

"It was the only way I could make that choice."

Aoko gritted her teeth. "No choice is impossible to make."

"For me, there is. The organization had nearly killed me. I knew what they could do and I knew that they would be ruthless in doing it. It was impossible for me to make any choice where I would put Ran into their line of fire. If that meant she had to know me as Edogawa Conan, I was willing to bear it, for the knowledge that she wouldn't be hurt."

"But she _was_ hurt."

Shinichi knew what she was referring to. From the tone of her voice, too, he judged that she had known the same kind of hurt. "She was."

A long pause. And then, small, muffled, and just the slightest bit accusatory: " _You_ hurt her."

"I did," He sighed, turned his face toward the sky. "And I'll always regret that. But I did it because I loved her."

"What part of that is loving her?" Aoko exploded, voice choked as she dragged her sleeve viciously across her face. Had she been crying? "You lied to her every day. While she worried over and missed you, you were _right there_. You _used_ her trust to do what you wanted and all she could do was wait, never knowing if you were going to come home, if you were even _alive_ —"

" _She's_ alive."

"—What's your point?" She snapped, folding her arms.

"I was selfish, Nakamori-san. Selfish and selfless in the most stupid and frustrating mix. She had every right to know, and it would have been infinitely easier for me if she had known. Hiding from Ran and lying to her tore me apart. Hurting her even more so. But I couldn't risk her life. Even if there was only a miniscule chance _they_ would find out through me, I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk a world without her."

Silence. Aoko said nothing.

"I regret a lot of what happened when I was Conan, but the one thing I won't ever regret is that she lived. Whether or not it was because I had kept her in the dark, she lived."

She still said nothing. In fact, hunched over on the booth seat, the girl appeared to curl in on herself inch by inch.

Shinichi sighed. "We…make mistakes. Detectives or phantom thieves, brilliant or not, we make mistakes. Especially when we're concerned about the people we love. So maybe I ought to retract that first statement, since it too, has become a lie."

"What?"

"Logic, Nakamori-san. I said I was a very logical person. That seems irrelevant when talking about this situation, because there was no rational reason involved. The things I did were contradictions of each other. I didn't tell her my identity because I didn't want her to be in danger, and yet I went to live under her roof. I didn't want her to find out about it, and yet I desperately did because I just wanted to talk to her as me again, not the mask."

Aoko wasn't a good liar. She didn't lie to herself. Now she wished she could, because then she could pretend she hadn't seen almost the exact same emotion on Kudou Shinichi's face reflected in Kaito's, just a few days ago.

" _He_ cares, Nakamori-san. Be sure of that, if nothing else."

She took a deep, deep breath.

Was that reason enough to forgive him? Did the reasons make the lying any better? The manipulation? He tried to keep her safe—by becoming what she hated the most, by drawing up an invisible barrier between them that was impossible to break, by worrying her out of her wits and then showing up on the doorstep one day, bloodied and bruised and explaining—

She really ought to hate him. Hate the smile worn by Kuroba Kaito and Kaitou Kid simultaneously. Hate that he chose to shoulder the legacy of his father. Hate that out of everything, the one thing he chose, consciously, to give up, was her.

He had to have known. He had to have known that she would've hated him. And he made his choice. He decided that he was going to be able to live with that.

Did he care? Really? Kaito always winged it. He was more spontaneous than anyone she'd ever known. If he cared so much then why? Why did he go off and do the one thing he knew guaranteed that they would end in tragedy, only to come back and spill his guts?

Did he think it would be fine, just like that?

The thought made her heart freeze.

The real world wasn't like a magic trick.

Kudou Shinichi didn't understand after all. No, he was a different situation entirely. Aoko got to her feet, slowly.

It had stopped raining.

An ironical smile picked at her lips, as she walked out of the booth. "I suppose I shouldn't trouble you anymore. The bus will be here soon. You've got to get home." She did not look at him when she said this, closed her eyes against the temptation because she knew that the face behind her was not Kaito's, because she knew that even though she knew that, the similarities may jar her out of her resolve.

"Nakamori-san?"

"…Yes?"

"I had every expectation that Ran was not going to forgive me when I told her. And I was fine with that."

Her hands wrapped into a fist, clenched tight enough that the blood drained out of her knuckles. "Why? If you cared so much then why-?"

"I was willing to let her forget me. Or hate me. Or blame me for the wrongs I did to her. If it meant that she could live a better life—if it meant that she could be happy—then what happens to me doesn't matter. I told her the truth because she deserves it, not because I thought what I'd done would be erased just like that. When it was over—when the organization was gone—the first thing Kuroba-kun did was go to you. He didn't even stay for the police briefing."

Aoko inhaled.

"We don't like to wear masks, Nakamori-san. But sometimes we have to. The fact that he took it off for you—and only for you—should tell you something about how he feels."

"I'm a detective. Reading people is what I do. If you really hated him, would you be here right now, listening to me talk?"

Aoko flinched.

"Don't feel like you have to wear a mask, Nakamori-san. Wrongs and rights are well and good but beyond that, when everything is said and done, all you really have to question is what you believe. What you think. And if you don't really feel like you should hate him—if there is even the tiniest bit of doubt—well, only you would know whether or not you would regret it forever. Confront yourself. Figure out what you think. It's his turn to wait for you."

Aoko turned her head. Blue-eyed gaze met blue-eyed gaze. She had to test herself one more time.

Could she really banish Kaito's eyes from her life?

She didn't hate him.

Not really.

She wanted to. God she wanted to but she couldn't. She just couldn't.

And after everything that he's done to her, the tiniest part of her was screaming for her to just forgive him already—

Did that mean that she was in love with him too?

Because it was irrational—there was no logic to it. It was stupid, and selfish, and selfless, in all the contradictory ways that made her head spin, made her frantic and sad and angry-

But.

 _But._

She was angry because she cared, wasn't she?

A faint smile curled at her lips, and her brows, furrowed, smoothed out. The irony utterly defeated her.

"Well. I won't keep him waiting for too long."

Behind her, the bus settled into the station. Aoko moved out of the way.

Kudou Shinichi smiled as he got to his feet and tilted his head.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Having been in his shoes before, I'm more than glad to help."

The doors to the vehicle closed. On one side of the glass, the girl who looked like the person he loved stepped away. On the other, the boy who looked like the person she loved wished her very good luck from the bottom of his heart.

There weren't enough miracles in the world. If Ran was his miracle, then he hoped Aoko would be Kuroba's.

The floor beneath his feet lurched as they came to a stoplight and jerked him out of his thoughts, nearly sent him stumbling into another passenger.

Shinichi laughed a little at the ridiculousness of it all.

God, when did he become such a sap?

* * *

Cool freshness mixed with warmth and the scent of freshly baked cookies on the front step as the door was pulled open.

"Tadaima." He smiled, weary but content.

"Okaeri."

A pause.

"You don't actually live here anymore, huh?" She giggled.

"Oops?"

Matching blushes lit up their faces.

"Hey Shinichi?"

"Yeah?"

"Kaitou Kid came to me for love advice today."

"…I met his girlfriend at the bus stop."

"Wait, really? What did she say? Does she forgive him?"

A groan. "Raaaaaaaaaaaan. This is supposed to be _our_ date."

"You're the one who decided to be late. Now come on, tell me all about it."

He did.

* * *

Somewhere in the city, a boy gathered the courage to leave a single rose on a windowsill, and a girl gathered the courage to pick it up.

And thus it began, all over again.


End file.
